


as expected of partners

by ficfucker



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Minor Injuries, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26566837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: brick & mordecai get a moment alone in a bandit squat
Relationships: Brick/Mordecai (Borderlands)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	as expected of partners

**Author's Note:**

> ehhhhh im sick of looking at this :/
> 
> set in 1

Mordecai rights the single, overturned chair and with a huff, slumps down. Brick, careless about where he sits, opts for the floor, which isn't much of a floor at all; just the smooth, foot-beaten earth and sand that was left exposed in the small bandit squat. The shade, thankfully, provides the two vault hunters with some much needed change in temperature.

“Nice work back there,” Brick says, unprompted. His bag is removed from his back and when Mordecai glances over at him in the low light, he sees the larger man pawing through it.

Mordecai grunts. “Gracias. You too."

Roland and Lilith called dibs on clearing scythids from the racetrack. Brick and Mordecai were tasked with taking down Skagskilla, though Roland had specifically pointed out that they could wait to tackle it as a full team. Neither had wanted to stand around and put it off. The challenge sort of excited Mordecai. Seemed to fire Brick up, too.

So now they are alone. Bloodwing isn't fond of closed quarters and had opted to stay outside and preen. He's shiny with skag blood, working it off his feathers with the sharp side of his beak as it was already dried and tacky. Mordecai wouldn't force his bird to do anything he didn't want, so outside he stayed.

It wasn’t such a terrible situation. Bloodwing made a good lookout and could even guard them while they took a moment to sort inventory and get out of the relentless sun.

Mordecai isn't much of a talker, though, and being alone with Brick made him cagey. In the short time they've been partnered together, they've shared a few touches, spent nights side by side asleep. Intimacy was foreign territory with him, and Brick was downright intimidating given his size and scars and booming voice.

Softer than a skag pup, however, Mordecai was quick to learn.

Maybe that scared Mordecai even more. Knowing Brick would give into any kindness so willingly. Mordecai would have no way out, no reason to run.

Thoughts like that—imagining something, anything between them—meant Mordecai was already totally fucked.

Through the slats of the metal walls, little beams of light stream through. With such an angle and haze to them, Mordecai can tell the sun is beginning its cycle to setting despite having no color to base this assumption off of. The ratty sheet hanging in the door flaps limply as a low, cool wind picks up and skates into the small area.

"Roland and Lil ain't been responding to Comm signals," Brick says.

Mordecai shrugs a shoulder. He stretches his slender legs out and crosses them at the ankles. "So what? They're either knee-deep in scyth-guts or hiding out on the track and playing tonsil hockey."

Brick laughs, shakes his head. "So much for team effort."

Another silence falls between them. Above, Mordecai can hear the faint clackity scratching of Bloodwing's talons on the metal roof as he hop-walks around.

Seemingly uncomfortable when idle, Brick speaks up again. "They sure cozied up quick."

Mordecai snorts. "I don't know much about sirens, but something tells me Lilith didn't have to work any weird magic on Roland to get him interested."

"Think they're gonna stick around?"

"Whaddya mean stick around?"

It's Brick's turn to shrug. "Mean, if they're all buddy-buddy, they might ditch us."

Mordecai doesn't want to admit that he's harboring a bit of faith in their ragtag team, starting to garden a bit of a fantasy of the four of them actually finding the vault together, so he scoffs. Nearly his whole life, save for the company of Bloodwing, he's been a lone wolf. And fine with that. Easier when you don't have to look out for others. No one to stab you in the back if you never give them the chance.

Instead of confessing any semblance of trust, Mordecai, just vague enough, says, "Wouldn't be a smart idea if they did."

Brick smiles, his eyes devious. It's a veiled compliment and Brick has picked up on it. Proud and aware of his strength, but never one to brag. "Damn straight."

Brick goes about the contents of his bag, counting what bullets he's bought and scrounged. The gold casings shine in his palm, look so small compared to the massive spread of Brick's hand, they could be mistaken for corn kernels

Mordecai traces the grey-white glow of sunlight lines to Brick's boot. Up his leg. Past his thigh. Right above his belt buckle, presumably where his navel is, shines a dark patch through the material of his skin-tight shirt.

Squinting, Mordecai tries to figure out the stainage. Could easily be the spatter of Skagzilla, but there's a ragged tear no larger than a pebble in the fabric.

"Wait, Brick, are you bleedin'?"

Brick glances up at Mordecai, then down at himself. He chuckles. "Ain't nothing but a scratch," he dismisses.

Before leaving Fyrestone, Zed had insisted Mordecai take along some extra medkits, on the house, finding no issue in pointing out that Mordecai's weight and stature meant he wasn't an easy target, but a quick kill if he ever slipped up. Mordecai didn't appreciate the commentary. He prickled in defense, ensured Zed he could handle his own, but eventually relented. He wasn't the type to pass up free anything.

"Here." Mordecai stands and produces a bottle of Bullet Salve. He moves from his corner of the shack and sits down beside Brick, cross-legged. The feeling of being dwarfed as soon as he nears the man has yet to simmer, and Mordecai fleetingly wonders if he'll ever get accustomed to Brick's insurmountable size. Something sloshes in his stomach and to distract from it, he strips off his gloves.

"Save it for when you need it," Brick tries to argue.

"Tonto," Mordecai mumbles. "Weren't you the one just talkin' about us being a team? No use to anyone if you're injured."

Brick, for the first time perhaps in his entire life, doesn't fight. He undoes his belt buckle, an act that Mordecai refuses to allow himself to be an audience to. When it clangs, Mordecai looks back over and begins unscrewing the lid to the jar.

"Sure got tiny fingers," Brick comments. He sounds a little awed, like he can't believe people live their lives with anything less than baseball mitts for hands.

"They ain't tiny," Mordecai snaps, overly defensive. He exhales and dips a spidery finger into the balm. "Not all of us can have a rack of skag ribs dangling off our hands."

Brick chuckles, unfazed by Mordecai's sudden sharpness, and lifts the bottom hem of his shirt to reveal a rather nasty gouge.

For a split second, Mordecai considers why he's put himself in this situation: patching Brick like a doting mother hen. He wouldn't do the same for Roland, probably not Lilith either, not without her asking first.

And here he is, insisting he treat Brick himself.

It makes his heart do a backflip in his chest, a sensation Mordecai is not at all accustomed to.

There's no backing out now.

Mordecai runs the balm between his index and thumb to warm it, thin it. He reaches over, trails the ooze along the gouge. The hard muscle beneath the flesh quivers and contracts at the contact. Must tickle.

In a moment of absent-minded reflex, Mordecai smears the rest of the salve on Brick's pants and goes to look for some bandages.

"C'mon, man," Brick whines with no true sorrow. "I only got so many pairs, you know."

"What? Oh. Habit, I guess," Mordecai mumbles. "Sides, what difference does it make? You're usually painted head to toe in bandit brain matter." He unspools a roll of gauze, tears a square off with his teeth.

"Different cuz I'm the one who put it there."

Mordecai snorts. He places the pad over the wound and sets about taping the edges.

"Gonna itch," Brick complains.

"Quit bitchin'. Would you rather have an infection?"

"Ain't got one yet."

"Dios mio. Pushing your luck with it."

Brick smiles, pulls his shirt down when Mordecai finishes the last corner. "Been tendin' Roland and Lilith, too?" he asks, and his typically booming voice has a teasing lilt to it.

Mordecai flushes. His mind scrambles. He's thankful that his goggles shield his eyes, most of his face, so Brick can't see him fumbling mentally. "Think they tend each other, if you know what I mean," he mutters.

"Kiss and make it better."

"Exactly. Don't need me to babysit 'em."

Brick's smile reappears, twice as devious. "Sayin' yer lookin' out for me, Mordy?"

Shoulders stiffening defensively, Mordecai casts his gaze away. "What teammates do, ain't it?"

Brick bursts with laughter and before Mordecai can evade, he tosses a tree-trunk arm around his center and slams him to his chest. "Kill ya to say ya care?"

Mordecai flails uselessly. A tiny, burning part of him excites at the touch. The rest of him, however, shrieks to escape. "Won't ever get the chance," he grits, "with you squeezing the guts outta me!"

Brick chuckles. He loosens his grip and the issue with this is it leaves Mordecai sitting freely in his lap.

"Sorry," Brick hums, not at all sorry. Both of his arms are snaked around Mordecai now, placed to his slender lower back.

"Uh." Mordecai blinks. He hasn't been held since… shit, has Mordecai ever truly been held by someone? "You this touchy with all yer partners?" he asks dumbly.

In their relatively short time as a team, Brick's reached for Roland and the soldier shoved at him. Lilith delighted in being scooped up and set on mountainous shoulders, perched and periscoping. As way of congratulating—usually in response to a particularly skilled snipe—, Brick's given Mordecai a handful of slaps on the back, a nudge on the shoulder.

Brick says, completely sincere, "Just the ones I like."

Mordecai gawks. Brick being so blunt and straight forward isn't shocking. The admission is.

Who likes a man as venomous and distant as Mordecai?

He's quick to regain his false composure; erect the front of being cool and detached. "Dunno how you could like a guy like me," he whispers.

Mordecai goes to slide off Brick's lap, but the brute entangles him further, mashes him to his chest again. "Just patched me up. Always got my back. Damn good shot. And Bloodwing is cool as hell. Never seen a bird like him before."

Mordecai's face warms. His breathing has gotten faster, coming out in hushed whistles. After a long moment he says, almost so quiet it can't be heard, "I like you, too, Brick."

"Knew ya did! Think I don't see you lookin' just cuz you got them goggles on."

Mordecai is officially mortified. He wriggles back and glances up at Brick. They make heavy eye contact. It's searing, like staring at the sun, but Mordecai is locked. His eyes flit to the scar centipeding over Brick's lip and he gets the terrible, impulsive urge to crane up and kiss him.

"Mordecai? Brick?"

Roland's voice scares Mordecai three feet vertical. He leaps from Brick's lap and instinctively shoots a hand to his side, readying to grab his pistol, but it's just Brick's Echo comm.

Brick answers with, "Took you two long enough to reply."

"Sorry. Got swamped with these damn scythids. On our way back. Meet up at Lucky's."

 _No shit,_ Mordecai thinks bitterly, as if there were any other location to regroup at.

Whatever air they were creating just then, it's deflated. Time is moving at a regular pace, so Mordecai goes to his seat, grabs his pack, and pushes past the moth-eaten blanket in the doorway.

"Blood! ¡Aquí!" he calls.

Bloodwing circles twice before swooping down and perching on Mordecai's awaiting forearm. Brick steps out behind them.

"Meant what I said. Bout liking you and Blood."

Mordecai doesn't turn to face him. He crunches sand in the direction of their banged up runner. "Yeah," he agrees. "Me, too."

There's no reason to look at Brick; Mordecai can _feel_ the smile beaming off him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for readinggg


End file.
